


Impure thoughts, Impure actions

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Priest Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."<br/>"How long as it been since your last confession my child."<br/>"Probably years."<br/>"It’s never too late to return to the Lord, I’m glad you came today. What is your sin."<br/>"I have been having impure thoughts."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impure thoughts, Impure actions

Meg first caught sight of him in the church basement, too blue eyes and cracked pink lips, hair dark tousled and he cut a trim figure in the cassock he wore. The harsh fluorescent lights made him look sallow but she was still drawn to him. Apparently he was the head priest of the church, and had come down to check that everything was set up for the AA meeting and to offer a few words of encouragement.

Meg had been thinking of just how she could ditch the AA meetings without her parole officer getting wind of it, but now she was wondering what other sorts of things around the church she might like to attend.

People that were off limits always did hold a particular gleam for Meg. He didn’t come off as the sort of pervy priest that likes to spend time with the altar boys, no, he held himself well with impeccable posture and even though his expression was a little aloof he had an air of righteousness about him. She wanted to corrupt him. She really, really did.

-

Peeling eggs carefully and mixing up the yolks, Meg hummed to herself as she made her spicy deviled eggs. So a church picnic wasn’t how she might usually spend her Sunday, but it was a church picnic where Father Novak would be. Black lacquered nails artfully squeezed the deviled egg yolks back into the whites with a flourish that gave them a nice swirled look. She had on a bright red dress tied at the waist with a black bow, long black hair tumbling loose and wavy over her shoulders.

When she arrived at the small white church and made her way across the lawn the dowdy old ladies and pot bellied men eyed her with looks of scandal or lust. The high heels she wore sunk into the soft earth as she put a sway in her hips. Spotting Father Novak in a small group of parishioners listening intently, she made her way over and said hello, offering her plate of deviled eggs to the gods of picnic potluck.

Let no one say she didn’t have a great sense of humor taking deviled eggs to a church picnic.

Father Novak nodded appreciatively after trying one.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around the church frequently, are you new to town?”

“No, I started coming to the AA meetings here. I just got out of jail, early release for good behavior.”

“I see. It’s encouraging you’ve decided to come church events outside of AA. You should consider attending Sunday mass sometime.”

“I think I just might father.”

“I hope your recovery is well. Many find solace through difficult times in the love of our Lord.”

Meg smiled sweetly as he moved away to shake hands with another gaggle of parishioners, eyeing the curve of his backside through the black fabric covering him ankle to wrist.

-

Meg couldn’t sit through too many masses, it was dreadfully boring and she found Christianity on the whole to be a crock of shit anyway. Whatever flirtations and overly friendly gesture she gave Father Novak was returned with his usual cool demeanor and – to her amusement – the same respect he gave to all his parishioners.

She was sexually frustrated, bored, and was too interested in this man. It was time to take it to the next level.

After asking around Meg found out when they had confessional hours and which priests usually tended when. When she made her way there on a quiet Thursday afternoon, the sound of his rough voice had her lips curling in a pleased smile. He spoke quietly through the grill that separated their sides of the confessional booth, the lighting too dark to see anything. It smelled musty, the seat was hard wood, the space was cramped. But the deep bass timber of his voice alone made her wet.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

"How long as it been since your last confession my child."

"Probably years."

"It’s never too late to return to the Lord, I’m glad you came today. What is your sin."

"I have been having impure thoughts."

Hitching her skirt up, Meg scooted to perch at the edge of her seat, leaning against the wood paneling that separated them.

"Of what nature."

"I have lusted after a man."

"It is natural to have some impure thoughts, it is what we do and whether we act on these thoughts or not that is important."

"What do you mean father?"

Stroking up the smooth skin of her thighs, Meg swirled her nails over sensitive skin and licked her lips, thinking about his slender fingers and wondering how pale he was under his cassock.

"To have these thoughts is not necessarily a sin so long as we are aware of ourselves and channel our attentions to more productive activities."

"Do you ever have impure thoughts father?"

"I do. And when I do, I read scripture, I clean the church, I tend the garden. Recently I’ve taken up knitting, there’s a wonderful volunteer program at the hospital making blankets and caps for poor mothers."

Meg barely restrained her snide laughter.

"Well isn’t that just sweet. But what if these thoughts keep coming back. I can’t stop thinking about him father, about all the things I want to do to him, what I want him to do to me, I want -"

"You must keep busy child. Busy hands and minds have no room for these thoughts."

"What if I don’t want to stop thinking about him father?"

Pitching her voice lower, Meg scooted closer to the grill between them, letting her voice drip with sinful intent as she petted against the wet cotton of her panties.

"I don’t think you would have come here today to ask forgiveness if you were not troubled by these thoughts."

"Actually, I came here because it’s you."

"I do not understand."

"I like to think about you father, when I touch myself, I think about your lips and your voice, I wanted to listen to you talk to me about sin while I touch myself so I came here."

"That is highly inappropriate."

"I’m touching myself now father, I’ve got my skirt hitched up around my thighs and my hand down my panties."

Pushing past the lace hem of black panties, she slid her fingers between the slick folds of her vulva, circling over the clit and rubbing along the length of herself.

"In the confessional booth?"

"Yeah, you want to say a prayer for me father, you’ve got a voice should be working for a phone sex line."

"You need to cease this behavior immediately."

His voice was still calm and collected, very stern as he reprimanded her.

"I wonder, do you get to walk out on me father, or do you have to stay, say a prayer for my soul, bless me, you going to stay until I’m done?"

"You are defiling the sanctity of the church!"

"I’ve got three fingers in my cunt right now, it’s so wet it’s dripping down to my wrist, you ever touch a girl there father, ever get your fingers in someone’s cunt, or is it you like guys?”

Curling her fingers to push up inside, she ground her hips down pressing against the heel of her palm while she fingered herself in the confessional booth thinking about what his pretty blue eyes would look like gazing up at her from between her legs. He had gone quiet.

“You ever think about that, getting bent over and fucked raw?”

She couldn’t hear anything coming from his side, couldn’t tell if he was touching himself, but she hadn’t heard the door to his side open.

“All right, I’ve got a church related question then. Do you ever get impure thoughts when people kneel for you and open their mouths to take the Eucharist?”

“No, I never have.”

“The only reason I wanted to take communion was to feel your fingers on my lips, cause I get all sorts of impure thoughts kneeling in front of you.”

“Young lady you need reconsider your actions, you should be more respectful of the church.”

"You know, you could always lift up your cassock and get your dick out, join me in a little fun, is it even sin if we’re not touching each other?"

Meg snickered, pulling her panties to the side with one hand so she could thrust up faster with her fingers, slick wet sounds obvious in the small space, letting small pants and breathy gasps join them, moaning out when she started thumbing her clit as she fingered herself. His voice was rougher when he started up a prayer.

"Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our sins. Lead us not into temptation - "

"Tell me father do you ever think about Jesus inappropriately?"

She swore she could hear a surprised gasp from him. Yahtzee.

"I like to think about him, about how they stripped him down and flogged him, I wonder if he screamed. Sometimes I fuck myself thinking about Jesus being nailed to the cross -"

"You need to stop now, do not come here spewing such profanities, if you truly desire help I would be more than willing but this is disrespectful."

"Hey, we’ve all got our own hobbies."

"This is a house of the Lord, refrain from bringing your hobbies in here."

"Mmm, you might want to clean the seat off in here after I leave father."

Meg wiped her fingers on the hard wood booth of the confessional and straightened her skirt as she stood, opening the door and leaving the priest to his thoughts. She picked a pew with a view of the confessionals and sat back, waiting for him to come out. Propping her feet up on the back of the pew in front of her, it was several minutes before Father Novak opened the door to his side of the confessional.

Sadly there did not seem to be any buttons undone down the length of his cassock and it was still neat pressed, but his cheeks were bright cherry red. And he was clutching a bible in front of his crotch. She smiled lecherously at him and waved daintily. Meg was the only one near the confessional, up to the front someone was lighting candles but the church was almost empty. Of course he would know it was her. She wanted to make sure of that. The severe glare and disapproving set of his lips was reward enough as he huffed and strode to the back of the back of the church, fingers tight around his bible.


End file.
